


honey gilded eyes

by twistingdeceit



Series: dream smp gods au [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: God(dess) of Death, description of death, dream is the god of creation, gods! AU, techno is a god of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistingdeceit/pseuds/twistingdeceit
Summary: technoblade had chosen to become a god when he took that arrow to his side, but he still has regrets.
Series: dream smp gods au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986079
Comments: 2
Kudos: 98





	honey gilded eyes

**Author's Note:**

> im currently working on this au with @smudgeofsoot on tiktok! you all should go follow them they are very talented and fed into this idea. this is just a drabble currently but there will be a long form story eventually
> 
> warning for character death and descriptions of blood!

There is a sweetness to divinity, a rush as gold fills your veins and twists your being from mortality to something beyond understanding. Technoblade didn’t get to experience that like the other fledgling gods did. Dream had gotten the rush as a mountain shot up beneath his feet, filling the outerlands with a new mountain range.

In comparison, the arrow just between the slats of Technoblade’s armor as he looked his assailant in the eyes was lackluster. He had told them to kill him, the promise of his ascension wrapped tightly in his hand. The blood already running down his arm from an earlier cut sealed it, and that final, poisoned arrow is what broke his fragile mortality. 

The honey sweet flood of divinity had been completely dulled by his death, one that came quickly, but a death nonetheless, and with it the death of a reputation. Technoblade, the one who never dies, had become Technoblade, the One who Razes the Lands. 

Now, he grips his sword tightly within his gloved hand. The sword is the same one he was holding when he died, his handprint now gilded into the iron sword, a permanent marker of who he was now. There is no mercy when he strikes down, driving the blade into a zombie’s chest, giving it the proper death it had somehow escaped. There is a small rush of adrenaline at the fulfillment of his purpose, until it falls back to cold weight again and he lets the tip of his sword meet the ground. 

There’s more monsters around, but for now, he rests his head back against the cool stone of the cave, taking in the gentle drip of water and how even if he resents Dream, he could admit that creation is something beautiful.


End file.
